


Lines that Trace

by Klokkenspel



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Additional character tags will be added, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anko Family (Hetalia), Gen, History, Nordics, lots of frustration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2019-12-25 11:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18260603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klokkenspel/pseuds/Klokkenspel
Summary: In a world where the nations don't know of each other's existance, all have wondered if they were the only personification in the world. Some have tried to find out. And a few have suceeded.Part 1: Denmark and Iceland meet, and set out to find what other personifications Europe might hold.





	1. One of Many Beginnings

Throughout the centuries, Denmark watches the humans go about their daily lives.

His people are a lively bunch, and his architecture and scenery beautiful to behold. He frequents bars and streets and parks, occasionally joining in on idle conversation, a habit that he has told himself, over and over, to drop.

But Denmark can't help himself. Though his people are not one for small talk with strangers, being their personification establishes a subsconcious trust and friendliness between them. And Denmark uses it to his advantage, trying to feel as normal as possible as he glides in and out of various names and jobs and backgrounds, identities that are as fake as his smiles and as meaningless as his purpose.

Clinging to an almost human life was not a wise choice in the end, but Denmark couldn't help it. What else could he do? What else did he have?

Sometimes, he wondered. Was he really the personification of an entire nation, the Kingdom of Denmark? Maybe one day he'd wake up to find it all a dream, cooked up by the mind of some imaginative writer.

Or a madman in an asylum.

How was he to know?

* * *

Denmark's thoughts had a way of being as unpredictable as the seas, tumbling back and forth until the sank back into the murky depths they originated from. Some days, especially in hard times, he would drink himself into a stupor and dream about a better world where he wasn't alone in his existence.

But today, his mind was quiet. Tired. But thankfully, not much more.

Denmark moved forward, eyes swiveling around. Though there is little to see but twisting streets and barely visible outlines of sprawling houses, experience has taught him to be careful.

A few sudden movements caught his eye. Denmark spun and took in the dark, blurry shapes that formed Reykjavik in his eyes. The sun was just about to completely dip under the horizon. There was no one out on the streets. The only thing that could be heard was the soft whistle of the wind that chilled his cheeks.

Iceland was a relatively safe nation to be in.

But it was still foreign territory. And that mattered much more to him, to  _Denmark_.

He took a hesitant step.

Sensing nothing, Denmark walked a few more paces forward, and his gaze landed on a small figure laying on the ground, against a house wall, with snow-white hair and a large blue jacket covering most of their body. They were ominously still.

"Are you alright?" Denmark tried, keeping his voice even and calm. Silence answered his question.

Taking a deep breath, Denmark knelt down next to him and gently shook the cold figure. No response. Denmark carefully rolled them over so that he could see their face and chest.

Eerie purple eyes, wide and glazed, stared back at him, on a youthful face frozen with shock. A dark hole penetrated his heart. Dark blood had poured out of it, leaving a drying scarlet circle and lines staining his white shirt.

Denmark bit his lip. He had seen plenty of dead bodies, but this was a more unusual case. A murder? It seemed so highly unlikely, especially with a younger person. The victim looked like a teenager.

He started to pull out his phone, and was about to dial for the police when the body suddenly moved.

Denmark froze. Dead bodies didn't move. And the body, at least a few seconds ago, had been unquestionably, undisputedly, undeniably  _dead_.

He knew a dead body when he saw one.

Yet it moved again. The eyes widened just a fraction of a millimeter more before narrowing into thin lines of shock and suspicion. Denmark shot up and started to creep backwards. The world around him fell away. Thoughts and denials and dangerous, tantalizing hopes started to swirl and stir his mind, cracking it into a million tiny pieces.

The teenager started to slowly, shakily propped himself up against the wall, and his eyes met Denmark's for a few brief, mind-numbing seconds before everything faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR NOTE: This story starts off with Denmark and Iceland, but THEY WILL NOT ALWAYS BE THE FOCUS! The perspectives will start jumping around quite a bit after a few chapters, and pretty much almost everyone will get some time in the spotlight. These two were just the best place to start. 
> 
> This story was inspired first by two stories and a Kinkmeme request, both several years old. I'm not filling out the request exactly, but the request was:
> 
> \-------  
> I would like to see an AU in which the nations don't know each other's existence, i.e. they assume they are the only personification in the world. And maybe their bosses don't know their existence either.
> 
> What I specifically want is two nations meeting each other, each assuming the other is a human, and develop a friendship/love for each other. But later it revealed that their new friend was in fact their enemy/antagonizer/etc. I want to see the shock and the making-up after the revelation. 
> 
> Any pairing/friendship pair goes, as long as you can work it into the above setting. But I am partial to France/Germany, France/Prussia, Prussia/Austria, England/France and England/Germany.
> 
> I will give all my cookies for anyone who gives me England/Germany.  
> \-------
> 
> If you don't want to read the entirety of this, then the summary is that I'm writing a fic which occurs in this universe (but there's speculation, like the most nations haven't found any other nations, but many aren't sure they're the only ones), but discards everything else the request asked because it's already been filled.
> 
> The two amazing fills that you should go check out for the request are _Between the Spaces_ , which is a two-shot that does feature England meeting Germany (no romance) and their reactions, and _Night Like This_ , which is a long sequel that involves England and Germany becoming friends and finding other nations. Romance very slowly builds, but it's pretty good in terms of not screwing itself over (because certain good stories have a tendency to ruin themselves due to awkward and unnecessary romance sub-plots), so please don't let the pairing deter you. It's not a very big part of it, and is non-existant at first.
> 
> Links:
> 
> https://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/17942.html?thread=58610454#t58610454 (Between the Spaces)  
> https://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/17942.html?thread=65217046#t65217046 (Night Like This)
> 
> Both are AMAZING. Especially _Night Like This_ , which easily makes it onto my top 3 in terms of favorite Hetalia fics, and I've read a lot. Sadly it is not finished; it starts at 1919 and was supposed to end at around 1990s ish, but was abandoned (unless the writer died because they seemed really devoted to this) before WW2 started. However, the two find Netherlands, Denmark, the NA brothers, Prussia, the Italies (though they don't know it) and Austria before updates ended.
> 
> The first two nations England and Germany find are Denmark and Netherlands, and basically contact info is swapped around and Denmark mentions he's like to see Netherlands. So later England does this pendulum magic thing to reveal stuff and it turns out Denmark and Netherlands were together somewhere, probably talking about whatever.
> 
> And that's where the inspiration began. Because there are few things I despair over more than great, amazing, awesome, eye-catching, interesting, but unfinished fanfics. And I couldn't let the opportunity slide.
> 
> A quick note on the measurment system. I will be using the metric sytem, so meters, kilometers, liters, grams, stuff like that. Because that's what the vast majority of the world uses and it makes absolutely no sense for them to think in imperial units. I do that with my other fics to but I figured I should say something about it here. When America shows up (eventually) I might mess around with imperial units a bit, however...
> 
> Oh, and I do plan on including all nations (not sure about micronations) at some point. There's no definite ending as of now, but I have a rough "storyline" planned out which could probably last me like thirty chapters.
> 
> No pairings planned as of yet.
> 
> Magic does exist here, though not creatures like Norway's troll or England's "fairy friends". More detail will be given about it later, but...


	2. Quiet Places

Pale rays slowly crept across his face, tickling his eyelids until they twitched.

Denmark blinked and yawned, trying to remember what he had on his agenda for the day.

Then, a glance at his surroundings reminded him he was on a "vacation" in Iceland, and he was in a hotel in Reykjavik. He frowned, trying to think if there was anything more to that, but his memory came up empty. Shaking off the blanket, he quickly ate his breakfast and headed out of the hotel, eyes darting around and taking in the scenery.

Humans flowed around him, a steadfast stream, content in going about their daily business, and Denmark experienced a strange feeling of loneliness as he pretended to be one of them. In Denmark, the country, at least his people were always around.

Here, he was truly alone.

...

Something in his memory nagged at him.

Denmark froze. The person behind him muttered annoyances and shuffled around him on their way down the sidewalk.

Something was wrong. And concerning. And very, very important.

What was it?

Think, he chided himself. Start recently. What happened yesterday? Yesterday...he got to Reykjavik. Sampled some food. Visited some museums. Wandered the streets. Yet at the very end...

White hair. Blood.

Hypnotizing purple eyes.

Denmark visibly flinched. There was someone like that. There was blood involved. It was dark. And...

He couldn't remember.

Why couldn't he remember?

Why was it so important he remembered?

Denmark started walking again. He went every which way, randomly picking directions with no thought behind them. The background fell away. The entire time, his mind was focused on one thing.

 _Why must he know what happened?_ Because he knew he had to. It wasn't just the suspicious gap in his memory. There was something else a play that turned what would be a curiosity into a dark, frightening desperation.

He _had_ to know, for _some_ reason.

Denmark took a deep breath. This trip to Iceland was supposed to be uneventful, but it seems the world was determined he wouldn't get a break.

* * *

"Sorry, I don't know of anyone like that," the librarian replied. Her eyes were sympathetic. Denmark vaguely wondered what theory she had to explain his questions.

"Alright then," Denmark sighed. It seemed no one in Reykjavik had any idea of a person with white hair or purple eyes. And there was nothing online or in the newspaper about anything strange last night either.

He walked tiredly out the library and aimlessly wandered around, at loss as to what to do. 

Time seemed not to matter. His mind got like this sometimes, when nothing except the subject of his scrutiny seemed to be of consequence, and the world around him passed by in a blur.

A few minutes (or hours) later, Denmark found himself at the edge of a seaside cliff. He wasn't sure what path he took, though he vaguely remembered something about white bark. The cliff hung over lapping waves, out of sight of civilization, a gray monument to time and erosion.

Denmark knelt down at the edge and gazed at the ocean, dark blue and seemingly endless (he remembered when he really thought so, when everyone did), the only source of sound in the otherwise quiet and peaceful environment.

"Does it feel nice, to get away from it all?"

It was him. The white-haired boy from yesterday. He stepped stepped up next to Denmark and observed, fearlessly, the waters over 50 meters below.

"Yes, I suppose," Denmark responded softly after a few moments. It was creeping back to him now, like rising sunlight over lingering night shadows.

The boy nodded. 

"You were looking for me."

"I was."

Denmark's heart felt still. A scene flashed through his memory...then a thought...and then...

"Were you watching me?" Denmark murmured.

He nodded, briefly, once. His fingers twisted around themselves in a mesmerizing dance.

"You shouldn't have been looking for me."

"And why not?" Denmark asked. The boy closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, the purple inside seemed brighter. Swirling, iridescent,  _unstable._

"Nothing good has ever come out of it," he whispered. Denmark felt another tug at his mind, but this time he resisted. He imagined all the times he had been under torture, how he had closed off his mind and barricaded everything under a wall of silence. And he did it again.

Cracks slowly spread, try as he might, but Denmark suddenly slammed against the intruder with such a force both of them were shaken out of the mental struggle and jolted back into the tangible world.

"How did you do that?" The boy hissed. His eyes flashed, but before he could move Denmark gripped his wrists and pinned him to the ground.

"I could ask you the same thing," Denmark snapped. He remembered now, why he wanted so much to find this mysterious person again.

"Would you believe me?"

The next words tumble out of his mouth before he had the time to register what he was saying.

"Yes. If you tell the truth, yes."

"I can do magic," the boy hesitantly responded. "And I'm immortal and actually over a thousand years old. And I represent a nation."

Denmark stared into his eyes and slowly drew his hands back.

"Me too." He paused. "Well, not the magic part, but everything else."

He extended his hand.

"My name is Denmark."

The boy-though Denmark supposed he was much older and much more than that-eyed the hand for a few seconds before slowly reaching out as well.

"I'm Iceland," he replied.

They shook hands, and Denmark could feel them both gripping on to each other tighter than normal, to validate what they have just seen and heard and reassure themselves this was more than just the product of their wishes and hopes.

A sense of exhilaration suddenly filled Denmark, so overwhelming he felt as though it could knock him to his knees and throw him, like a limp carcass, over the edge of the cliff and into the raging waters below.

* * *

Iceland regained his senses and broke away first. 

"I suppose one of my lifelong questions has now been answered," he muttered dryly, unsure how else to react. Denmark's eyes were still transfixed on his, his mouth half open in the shape of desperation as Iceland began to slowly back away.

"W-wait!"

Iceland took a deep breath, a calmly and quietly as he could. Closing his eyes, he imagined a soft sheet of snow covering everything, blinding all, wrapping him in its embrace. He let it form a frozen barrier between him and the world, muting all his fears and freezing his face into a mask of perfect indifference.

"I'm not going anywhere-at least, not yet," he told Denmark. Denmark slowly straightened himself.

"So-you're really Iceland?" he asked, unsureness still evident. Iceland, however, had no doubts-the being before him was Denmark. He was as sure of it as he was as sure of his own identity. 

"Yes. The personification of the Republic of Iceland, immortal as long as my culture and my people last," Iceland replied. "And I know now you are the Kingdom of Denmark, a representation of the Danish people. I do wonder what you're doing on my land."

"I-I just needed a break. From everything. Clear my head on foreign soil, though so much for that plan." Denmark smiled ruefully. Iceland wondered how much of his guard Denmark was expecting him to let down.

"Hm. Well, I suppose-" Iceland stopped. He didn't. He had no idea what to say, what to do, because despite how apathetic he made his act, it didn't change the fact that this was entirely new to him as well.

"We shouldn't lose contact," Denmark said finally. "We'll have to part ways, but you could be the only other...personification I'll ever see, and I don't want to lose track." His eyes begged for some sort of understanding. Iceland wanted to remind him he shouldn't act like Iceland was a human, but he himself scarcely knew how to behave around another nation.

Instead, he added his phone number into Denmark's list of contacts, and Denmark did the same for his phone. As Iceland stared at the new number, committing it to memory, Denmark continued to ramble.

"I think-can we not part just yet. I mean, I have a lot of questions, and you do to, right? Maybe we should start talking now. Or asking questions. I'm not sure what you want to talk about though, but maybe-"

"Of course I want to ask questions," Iceland huffed, cutting him off. "But I'd rather not do it here, as nice as this scenery is. I have to walk home and it's nearly a hour from here."

Then Iceland hesitated, because, sure as he was about Denmark's identity, he still didn't know what kind of person he was. How dangerous he would be.

But he didn't have much to lose, did he?

"You can come sleep over at my house. I suspect we have a lot to talk about."

Denmark's eyes lit up with surprise, and he nodded. However, the uncertainty showed on his face. Iceland suddenly realized Denmark was taking just a much of a risk as he was, and the uneasiness in his chest faded just a little.

"Thanks,"  he said.

Iceland nodded back and began to walk away from the cliff, gesturing for Denmark to follow.

* * *

"Have you met any other..." Denmark paused, trying to think of the right word to describe them. "...personifications?" The two were following a beaten trail through dense birch woodland. Apparently, Iceland had a residence miles away from civilization, simply because he didn't want to be found and disturbed. Denmark could relate.

"None that I know for sure," Iceland sighed. "And it's not like I shut myself up on this island. I travel to different places a lot, and chances are I have and just don't know it. Although..." He frowned.

"Although what?" Denmark asked.

"I-nevermind. What about you?"

"No, you're the first. If it take this long for me to have found another one of our kind, then the odds of finding anyone else..." Denmark chuckled bitterly and kicked at a stray pebble in front of him.

"How old are you? At least a thousand, right?" Iceland asked.

"Around 1600 years, give or take a century or two. Can't even say where I first came into existence. What about you?" 

"1000-1100 years old, though not much to show for it." Iceland glanced down at his small figure and then back at the direction of Reykjavik.

"Do you know how old you are physically?" Denmark asked carefully.

"16."

"I would be 23," Denmark said. "I wonder how physical ages would work. What about countries that are really young?" 

"Technically, I'm a really young nation," Iceland replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Denmark hide a wince. "But I think our existence is tied more to a culture and people than how recognized we are as a country. So if I use a more definite example..."

Iceland pulled out his phone and opened up a calculator.

"What are you doing?" Denmark asked.

"If we say there's 500 years of actual age between us and 7 years of physical age, it would take 71 actual years for us to age 1 year physically." Iceland paused. "Wait."

He started typing again. Denmark blinked.

"But that would leave me 14 and you 21. If I try another method, like dividing 1000 by 16, and 1500 by 23, and taking the average of the two differences, I get 1 year of aging every 64 years." Iceland looked up and frowned. "Not exact or close enough, but not far away enough to say there isn't a correlation either. However, I do have trouble believing the United States of America is a 6 year old, though we can't know for sure he or she isn't. And this is all assuming there's a strong correlation, and I think that's not the case."

"You think there even is a personification-lets just call ourselves that-for the United States? Or any other nation?" Denmark asked softly, tentatively. Iceland looked up.

"Of course," he replied, as though it was the most logical conclusion one could ever come up with. "I had always thought it more likely than not. The odds of me finding another nation were always going to be extremely low due to how we wouldn't reveal our natures, and how many people there are, so it wasn't an indicator as to whether others existed or not. But there couldn't be just a cultural personification for Iceland, but not any other nations or peoples, right? And not that I've met you, I think it's basically confirmed."

"Others. For each country. Each culture," Denmark whispered, the words carrying more meaning than nearly anything else he'd ever said. Iceland knew he had tried not to hope, not to wish-because combined with the knowledge of the past and perceived certainty of the future, it would have only brought misery and pain. But hope was a very, very hard thing to stamp out, a tiny ember that never truly dies.

"I see you've made yourself more deluded than me," Iceland replied dryly. "But I can see the appeal of lying to yourself-especially after the first few hundred years. Can't say I've ever done it myself. Keep in mind that the truth always worms its way into your reality eventually. Better know than be caught off guard."

Denmark lowered his head, lost in thought.

Iceland made sure he kept up as they walked, but otherwise made no comment. the forest around them was eerily silent, as though they knew the importance of what was happening within their borders.

Finally, Denmark looked at Iceland with his clear blue eyes, a set line of determination on his face.

"But anyway, maybe we should try to find others," he proposed. "If both of us are actively searching, then..."

Iceland tilted his head.

"Yes, we probably could find other nations. Eventually. Do you have any suggestions?"

Denmark faltered in his next step.

"I should have known. You've only just accepted you're not the only one, after all." The corner of Iceland's mouth twitched. "The internet will be a big help, I imagine. We could first search for anyone asking about personifications, and then perhaps ask a few questions ourselves and see if anyone takes the bait. Also look into stories about immortal beings, people spotted in different eras of history, unnatural healing powers, someone with strangely detailed knowledge of a specific period of history, or miraculous tales of survival..."

"You've thought about this," Denmark murmured. Iceland smiled bitterly.

"Of course. But I lack conviction. And motivation." A shadow of regret passed over him, but Iceland ignored it.

"I'll do my best to help," Denmark replied, putting as much confidence into the words as he could.

Iceland nodded. He just nodded, it was such a simple action and yet-

And yet, at that moment, Iceland felt as though he had just committed himself into one very, very big promise.

* * *

The two walked in silence for a long while. Denmark felt exhausted, despite how he could normally walk all day without feeling fatigue. The knowledge he had gained today seemed to both crush him into the earth and lift him above the clouds.

Denmark stared at the back of Iceland's head as he walked. Iceland seemed cordial enough, but there was a certain remoteness with which he said everything and carried himself, as though he was detached from everything in a way Denmark never could be.

Wondering more about the mysterious personification, Denmark followed him deeper and deeper into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive delay in chapter. I finally dragged myself to edit and post this, most of it has just been sitting around for the past few weeks. 
> 
> There will be certain changes to the way these nations act and talk due to the circumstances they've had to go through, but nothing extreme for most of them (a few, however...). For example, Denmark's noticably more subdued here, especially around Iceland. He might keep up his cheerful, sometimes oblivious act around humans, but way he's been alone has worn it down to a mask just to keep up appearances. More on that later.
> 
> Mr. Puffin does not exist in this AU. My headcanon is that Norway created him with magic (and by extension Kuma exists because of England), and since Iceland and Norway haven't met...
> 
> And also, Iceland's magic will play a semi-important role. Its nature will be explained later.
> 
> You know how sometimes in books two characters talk for a while and suddenly 30 minutes or an hour or half the day has gone by even though if you reenacted the conversation in real life it would only take like 5-10 minutes, or just far less than what the book stated? Drives me crazy. 
> 
> For their ages, Iceland was settle in the late 9th century, so a culture probably formed a few generations after that, in the 10th century. Hence 1000-1100 years old. The viking age really got going after the fall of Rome in 476 AD, which lead most of Europe to vulnerable to pillaging. So Denmark would probably be around 1600 years old, give or take. The viking ages are seen by most as Denmark, Norway, and Sweden's teen years, though I would say probably really early teens. By the way, actual age and physical age, only a very slight correlation here, at least from my interpretations.
> 
> For the comments-I've read them. Sorry, I just couldn't bring myself to reply, but I assure you I've read them.


	3. (Their)First Searches

Iceland's house on the outside was like a sentient dwelling from fantasy.

It was mostly wooden, painted pale white with streaks of black to camouflage with its surroundings. There was no door, but it contained an indescribable amount cleverly hidden entrances, overhangs and ledges that seemed impossible to support (though Iceland assured him the entire construction was completely within the realm of scientific possibility and his magic had nothing to do with it), and a garden of strange and beautiful plants encircling the area. The roof consisted of green tiles, spotted with white and crawling with vines and ivy that had raced up the walls.

"Do you live here all the time?" Denmark asked while running a hand over a smooth piece of birch bark, watching Iceland fiddle with a complex series of metal strings on the left side of the house.

"Of course not," Iceland retorted, straightening himself up as a piece the wall slid aside to reveal a dark interior. "This is where I go when I want peace and quiet, which admittedly is most of the time, but I also have houses in Reykjavik's center, as well as a few other cities."

Denmark cautiously followed Iceland inside the house, the entrance closing behind him with a muffled grinding sound.

There was a moment of dark silence before a switch was flipped and everything lit up in pale white light. The first thing Denmark noticed was that despite its exterior, the inside of Iceland's house resembled more of a mad scientist's lab than a cottage dwelling. The walls of this particular room had a color scheme of black and blue, its wooden canvas undetectable. One side consisted almost entirely of gray stained glass, which Denmark assumed was a window. Various phones, laptops, a desktop, and a large flatscreen TV could be immediatly spotted. The furniture consisted of a swivel chair, a rectangular table, and a large recliner, all three of which Denmark noticed (with a little annoyance) were from IKEA.

Iceland plopped himself down on the recliner and immediately grabbed one of the laptops, opening it up and typing a password.

"There's electricity here?" Denmark asked.

"Yes. Also water, gas, Wifi, pretty much what you'd find in a normal modern home. Despite what some human may think, living in the 21st century is much more preferable to living in 1st. Remember that I'm Iceland, not Norway."

Denmark sat down in the swivel chair.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Starting the basis for our research," Iceland replied. Denmark blinked. When he'd said they should look for other personifications, he hadn't thought about time frame. Iceland apparently thought they would begin immediately, and though Denmark couldn't find a good reason not to, the idea was a little jarring.

After so many centuries of being complacent about his situation, the actual action of trying to find others like him was...new. Exciting, perhaps, but also frightening. There was a reason Denmark had let himself become this way.

"Pull out your phone and prepare to take some notes," Iceland instructed. "The Wifi password is 1761944."

"Isn't that a bit obvious?" Denmark caught the white notepad and expensive looking fountain pen Iceland threw at him, at the same time turning on his phone.

"Not like many people will come here or try anything. I have... _precautions_ in place." Iceland started scribbling something down on his own notepad. "Look for anything you think might bring us a lead. Like if someone mentions something about having met someone like us, or photos from different time periods which have the same person."

Noting how authoritative and confident the younger nation suddenly sounded, Denmark opened up Google and got to work.

After talking for so long, the silence in which they searched was uncomfortably noticeable at first. It didn't help that Denmark was a being very used to noise, always around other humans. Now, he wondered if it was a thing only specific to himself. Obviously, Iceland did not have the same inclination for society.

A thought slowly came over Denmark, creeping into his mind as he clicked on page after page.

The idea was to _find_ others. But when-if-they did...

....how would those nations, after presumably centuries, possibly even millenias of isolation, respond?

* * *

The internet was a mess of red herrings when trying to find something like their topic. Iceland despaired internally every time unrelated things came up, and even using all the tricks he knew it was a grind at best.

Broader topics, like _engineering_ or _Japanese history_ , would bring up billions of results, a fair number of which would provide at least one new piece of information on the topic. Questions like _density of pure gold_ or _currently existing monotreme_ _species list_ , however, questions so specific and precise, those were guaranteed a spot on the first page or not at all.

 _Personified nations_ and similar topics fell somewhere in the middle, which was extremely inconvenient. Iceland knew from experience; the closer to the middle of the spectrum of specificness the topic fell, the more annoying it became to find what one was looking for. There had to be a few things that could help, but the information was never in a convenient location.

Nevertheless, he plowed on.

At the six hour mark, he decided he had had enough and call in a break to review.

Stretching his arms out, Iceland straightened himself up and set the laptop on an arm of the recliner.

"Are we stopping?" Denmark looked up from his phone and set down his notepad. Iceland had nearly forgotten he was there.

Nearly. He couldn't afford to.

"To take a break, and go over what we have so far."

Denmark nodded, and flipped to a page in his notepad, now a maze of black and white on several pages. After a hesitant few seconds, he began.

"So, I wrote down everything that might lead to something and then categorized them into how accessible and useful they seem. The best one so far is a person who has the username AFkingJ on Reddit. Shows up in random subreddits and posts 'I think I'm the real Captain America, because I know for sure I'm the most America person alive'. Their Youtube channel under the same name has videos on various video games though, and they have over 100,000 subscribers, which is actually quite impressive. I also found them saying that in the comment sections of a few Youtube videos, mostly ones on obscure documentary style videos on American history. In those comments they also add weirdly specific details about the event being covered that no human should be able to know about. If that's the United States personification, then..."

"They could be sending a message in hopes that one of us would see it," Iceland finished. "If we want to contact him or her, the most direct way would be through email."

"How do we get his email?"

"Go to the _About_ section and see if they set up a business inquiry."

Denmark opened his phone up again. After a few seconds of clicking, he started writing it down.

"Gmail. _imtheunitedstates@gmail.com_ ," Denmark said. "Wow."

Iceland rolled his eyes. "It's what I would have done too. We'll definitely put that high up on the list."

"There are a lot more," Denmark said. "But they're less definitive."

Iceland picked up Denmark's notepad and quickly flipped through it.

"This _is_ a lot," Iceland murmured. "We'll be burning through this for a while, even if most of them don't result in anything."

They went through best leads and circled them. Iceland decided there wasn't any point in looking over the lesser ones just yet, since he would just forget anyway.

"Right," Iceland twirled his pen and picked up his own notepad after Denmark was done. "My turn."

"There've been a few websites and posts that have speculated about this. Some with animal personifications, which I mostly ruled out unless most other stuff on it fit. The ones which speculated about humans-most of them get one or two things wrong, but I keep them on record anyway, just in case. There's one website which I think we should definitely look into, however."

Iceland grabbed his laptop and showed Denmark.

"The Unknown Truths?" Denmark asked. Indeed, in big, swirly golden letters, that was what's plastered on the top of the front page. Below, there were a column of pictures to the left, each accompanied by a caption, consisting of a linked title and a sentence of description.

Denmark's eyes trailed over the first few.

"Iceland, these are..."

"Yes, I know most of these are ridiculous," Iceland huffed.

"It claims there's a constantly swearing gray alien named Tony in Area 51, an invisible unicorn from England on the Statue of Liberty, a-"

"I get it," Iceland said flatly. "Look at this one."

Iceland moved the pointer over to a picture of a man in a WW2 era RAF uniform, the decimated London scenery behind him. He looked about twenty or so, with a grim, drawn face and tired slump. Standing next to him and looking even more haggard was another man who looked about the same age, but who was taller and wore the attire of a major general of the Soviet Army.

"Look at the caption," Iceland said. It read **_Nations Personified_ ** in bold letters, with the accompanying sentence being just as eye-catching-to Iceland, at least.

"Each nation in the world has a being which personifies it," Denmark read aloud.

"Click on the link."

Denmark clicked on the now blue letters of **_Nations Personified_ **, which brought up a few paragraphs of text and the same photo, and began reading.

"These beings, whom we call nations, represent a country's culture and people. They are human in appearance, and sometimes posses magic-like abilities or strange eye color. Most, but not all, are physically male. They can not be killed by normal means, and only die if their people or culture have been wiped out. They age very slowly, at varying rates, and the majority appear young.

Normally lethal stabs, shots or hits from blunt force introduce a state similar to death for a period of time determined by how much damage was done, until the wound begins to heal and the nation wakes up again and starts to regain control of their body. Poison works similarly. Complete or nearly complete obliteration of the body, usually suffered from some sort of explosion, causes a longer period of 'death', but the nation's body will reform, from particles if necessary, usually within a few days.

It is assumed a few nations have each other in their contacts, while some do not know of any others. For example, until recently, the only other nations the personifications of Japan and Taiwan knew of were each other. The largest known group of nations in contact with each other gather in one of their capital cities biannually."

"Well, that certainly fits the bill," Iceland said. "I wouldn't be surprised if the was setup by another nation, or this supposed group of nations, and everything else was just to fit into the surrounding theme so any humans wouldn't get suspicious."

"Wait-there's more at the very bottom," Denmark said. Iceland frowned. He'd missed that part, though now that he saw it on the screen, it wasn't that easy to miss. Strange.

 _"The next meeting will take place in Helsinki, from the 20th of December to the 31st, of 2019. Finland will be inside Helsinki Airport by the main entrance on the 20th from 12:30 pm to 2:30 pm Eastern European time to give instructions to the meeting place._ _Try to be there earlier rather than later._

"Clever," Iceland mused. "Helsinki Airport is a busy one, so you would have to know what Finland looked like to be able to find him. Stops any humans from trying to find them."

"The question is how _we_ find them," Denmark pointed out.

"The meeting is nearly six months away-a pity, since it looks like we just missed the last one.  We'll start worrying about it when it's time. The next most solid lead I got is one for the Netherlands. I stumbled across this Tumblr post from someone in this town-technically city-in the Netherlands. Says there's a man next door who's lived there for twenty years and still looks like he's in his 20s-hasn't seemed to age a day. The town's called Sloten."

"You think we should go there and search ourselves?" Denmark asked. Iceland nodded.

"Only around 700-800 people. We can rule out women and children, and focus on men who look like they're in their twenties. Not a high demographic in the Netherlands, so it should be relatively easy to confirm or deny if the nation of Netherlands lives there. Sloten actually gets tourists, so we won't even look too out of place. It would be a good area to start, and get ourselves eased into this."

"Alright then," Denmark nodded. "But first, I think we should send a message to this AFkingJ's email."

Iceland pulled up one of his Gmail addresses, one of the ones with random numbers as a name which he used for more risky correspondances

 

_To: imtheunitedstates@gmail.com_

_Subject: Personified Nations_

_You claim to be the United States of America. Can you back this up with proof?_

 

The point hovered over the send button. Iceland suddenly paused, and then glance at Denmark.

"Is this okay?" he asked, trying to decipher the look on his face.

Denmark read the message and nodded. Iceland clicked send.

* * *

Both of them stared at the screen for a while.

"Well, that's done," Denmark said finally. "I suppose we should be plotting a route to Sloten now."

"Easy enough. I'll get us tickets to the nearest airport." Iceland turned back to his laptop.

"Where do you get money for all this anyway?" Denmark suddenly asked. It was a fair question, and one he was surprised neither had thought of sooner.

Iceland quieted.

"There was some theft involved," he said finally. "Don't ask."

"Oh." Denmark supposed he shouldn't be surprised. It wasn't like Iceland was able to find honest work that could sustain this style of living.

Although, (though Denmark didn't want to make any assumptions this early yet), he suspected Iceland wouldn't have done honest work even if he could.

He himself stole a bit from time to time. Centuries of practice led to really good pickpocketing skills. But Denmark also did odd jobs here and there, though he never held on to any for long, and he was glad most of his income came from those jobs. He lived rather minimalistically, and didn't really need too much.

Denmark idly began to wonder how other nations lived. Would their lifestyles be as diverse as the humans'? Or-

"I just bought tickets," Iceland interrupted his thoughts. "Flight to Amsterdam leaves at 11:10 tomorrow, since they don't have any flights to the closer airports. We'll have to drive a while."

Denmark nodded, and glanced at the clock on his phone. It was about time he showered and went to bed.

"I should get back to the hotel," Denmark realized. Iceland opened his mouth, but didn't say anything for a few seconds.

"It's at Keflavík International Airport," Iceland responded finally, eyes downcast. "I'll meet you there."

Denmark nodded. After an uncertain silence, Iceland reopened the door on his wall by pulling, seemingly randomly, at another set of metal wires hung next to the hidden door.

Denmark took a cursory glance at the only room of the house he'd seen, and wondered if he would ever get to explore the entire structure. Even after a few hours here, it still felt strange. Not hostile, but not welcoming either. He wondered what that said about his and Iceland's current relationship, and future.

Iceland inclined his head. Denmark stood up and began to head back outside.

Just as he was about to cross the threshold, Iceland's voice, barely a whisper, stopped him.

"Thank you," the younger nation said. His voice trembled faintly. "For believing me."

"Thank you for giving me a chance," Denmark replied back, heart both light and heavy, considering the possibilities that awaited them.

He walked out into the silent birch forest and began making his way back to Reykjavik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hetalia, obviously, does not exist in this universe. Let's just say Himaruya never created it.
> 
> And I have no idea what the internet situation is like here, but presumably it'll be different from IRL, because butterfly effect and nations having social media and just existing. Still, probably relativly similar, but I did not go try the internet search myself, so it's just entirely guessing here.
> 
> Out of the 5 commercial airports in Netherlands, Amsterdam Schiphol Airport is the only one which Keflavík International Airport has flights to. The vast majority of flights leave at either 7:40 am or 11:10 am, at least during this summer. This chapter is taking place in late June 2019, roughly around now, and basically all flights leave at those times. I used Keflavík International Airport just because it's the largest and busiest airport in Iceland and hosts flights to somewhere in the Netherlands (I'm not sure if the smaller commercial airports do, but since the biggest airport in Iceland only offers flights to Netherlands' biggest airport, hopefully you can see why I don't feel like combing through all the other airports in Iceland to see if they have any flights to Amsterdam as well). Keflavík International is just the obvious airport to choose here. Even though Denmark will have to get up extra early from his hotel in Reykjavik to drive 50 km to there.
> 
> I seem to really like making Amsterdam a flight destination in my fics. Twice in a row now. And I wasn't trying.
> 
> 1761944-if you didn't catch that, it's refering to the date 17-6-1944, when Iceland became a fully independent republic. I wrote 6171944 at first out of habit, since I'm American. Glad I caught that later, because that would have been really embarassing.
> 
> Apparently a lot of Norwegians have cabins away from society in the woods or mountains and they brag about how "technologically disconnected" the places are, so no modern luxuries like plumbling, electricity, ect...
> 
> Sloten is an actual place in the Netherlands known for technically being a city despite having 715 people in 2017, so presumably 700-800 people now. If you want to know more, please turn to our Google overlord.
> 
> And Tony gets referenced! He's not going to show up in this fic-doesn't exist in this universe, makes things too complicated.
> 
> And for those of you who don't know, America does indeed have an invisible pet unicorn in canon. Invisible to him, anyway, since he can't see any magical creatures, but it was a gift from England. It doesn't actually live on the Statue of Liberty, but I vaguely remember it appeared in the same strip showing France gifting America Lady Liberty, or celebrating him giving America it, or somthing like that (my memory's pretty fuzzy on this, so don't quote me), so that's just another reference.
> 
> By the way, no magical creatures exist in the universe here, and none of the talking pets. I just-I'm not going to deal with that. The only (possibly, vaguely, sort of) supernatural beings here are the nations. 
> 
> They don't refer to America as America because technically America is just the two (or three) continents, and so like most people they just think of him or it as the US, USA, or United States. America being called America in Hetalia probably started as a shortened name for who is technically the United States of America, because America is just something convenient to call him. In this AU, Denmark and Iceland would avoid calling him "America", at least until he or the other nation agree on it as a name.
> 
> Some foreshadowing. Also, Iceland's house will be explained and explored more later.


	4. Netherlands

There was a certain numbness that came right after one's entire life had been changed in the course of a single day.

The next morning, Denmark woke up to an alarm on his phone, an already unfamiliar experience. Then, he sat in bed for ten minutes, going over yesterday's events and reassuring himself that yes, they did in fact happen.

Before he knew it, an hour had passed and he was in front of Keflavík International Airport, pacing as he eyed the crowd for any signs of Iceland's snow white hair. 

 _To your left_ , Iceland voice slid its way into Denmark mind, causing him to stiffen.

_What the-_

_Part of my "magical" abilities._ Denmark could have sworn at that moment Iceland's thoughts took on an amused and slightly smug tone. The bastard. _Didn't want to shock you more yesterday, but you should know. And get used to it._

The experience brought on a dark, chilling sensation, as though ice cold snakes were slithering around inside of him. Denmark felt like shivering, despite the mild weather.

 _Like I said, you should get used to it._ Iceland's "voice" cut across his mind. _Focus on just two train of thoughts-my voice and your response._

_Like this?_

_Yes._

Denmark felt the chill lessen just a bit, enough that he could bring himself to look around and spot Iceland a few feet away from him, eyes closed and extremely still. Denmark stumbled over and shook his shoulders.

"Can we go back to talking normally now?" he hissed in Iceland's ear. Iceland slowly opened his eyes, and to Denmark's relief the bitter coldness began to subdue.

"Fine. But I figured we be able to communicate like this if need be, and it could possibly help us find other nations." Iceland huffed. He glanced at a silvery-white watch around his wrist, and then beckoned Denmark towards the airport with a gloved hand.

Denmark followed, of course, while considering all this. Iceland probably had other hidden cards up his sleeve, also magical. Was this a thing all personifications had except for him, or was Iceland the exception? Hd also wondered what the extent of those abilities were, and why _Iceland_ had them in the first place.

They were questions he would ponder (but dare not ask) the entire flight.

* * *

 

Iceland was nervous. He was not afraid-it had been a long time since he had felt true fear. When he was small and weak and unable to understand the world around him, his life an oppressing silence broken by every so often by violent flashes of blood and magic.

He observed. He learned. He adapted, until he was left with the last laugh at the end of every conflict.

No, he was not afraid.

 _Not yet_.

And therein lies the problem.

Change was nothing new to him. He'd never tried to dodge its currents or halt its flow. It either came in a tiny trickle or roaring, rushing flood, but it always came and it always marched on, indifferent to all the actions around it.

Iceland had understood early on that adapting was always the best solution. And the faster one adapted, the faster one realized the opportunities that lay amongst the change, and the more time they had to take advantage of those opportunities.

This was no different. But this time, the change was so substantial-and personal-that Iceland, for the first time in a very long while, had to run has hard as he could to keep up. Everything in his life, he knew, could now be split into before meeting Denmark, and after. It was now the single biggest notch in his timeline-he knew without a doubt about this, even though only a single day has passed.

He and Denmark knowing about each other was going to change everything, because the first of something was always the most shocking. This search of theirs was going to change everything.

And Iceland had begun their search with a lie-though, didn't people lie, mostly unknowingly, dozens of times a day?

(But he never lies unknowingly. Iceland puts careful thought into the wording and presentation of everything, unlike humans. He wonders often just how human his psychology his).

But, this was about the one lie, the only one he'd told Denmark. Lying by omission doesn't count.

Iceland knew if they actively pursue hints of other nations, they would find another eventually. It would not be the case three decades ago, but it was the case now. Technology had advanced enough. He wondered if that was the reason he had so readily agreed to partner with Denmark in this search, when all his other attempts, scattered throughout his life, pursued both half-heartedly and vigorously, had led to nothing.

Well, perhaps not nothing.

There had been hints and clues, trails that had simply faded and leads he could never tie up. He had decided about a century ago that he would stop-stop with the searches, the ventures into far off lands for the sake of chasing vague phantoms. That whether it was bad luck, extremely low odds, or sheer incompetence, he would ignore his hope of meeting other nations for the sake of attending to things that brought about more immediate happiness (though more often than not, contentedness would be the more accurate word).

It was never a promise (Iceland didn't do promises, at least meaningful ones, and never to himself) to stop completely and throw in the towel. But he had seen nearly the whole world then, spent less time in his own land, as hard as it was to believe. His house was filled with trinkets from various cultures, he understood small fragments of hundreds of languages, and had tens of thousands of leads, catalogued meticulously in dozens upon dozens of notebooks, most crossed out with disappointed explanations, and a few with question marks and pages of notes which still ultimately left him with empty hands.

Nothing had led him to someone whom he had hard evidence was a nation. At least, no one he could find again and ask. There had been a few people he just couldn't find-the most striking of which...

Iceland bit his lip and glanced out the window. The plane was in the process of landing.

He made a mental note to dig through his old notes. There were some salvageable bits he should look through again. 

But they had enough now. Denmark could be told later. Or never-Iceland didn't know him, and he certainly didn't know how Denmark would take his excuse.

He didn't know if knowing him well enough to predict that would be a good thing. 

* * *

 

They got off their flight, rented a car, and began for Sloten without any fanfare. Denmark drove, while Iceland stared at the passing scenery with a neutral expression on his face.

After a while, the quiet atmosphere was discomforting. It wasn't suffocatingly tense, like some silences, but neither was it any sort of welcome reprieve.

"So, should we just ask around while there?" Denmark asked, briefly glancing at Iceland.

"That's the idea," Iceland replied, still staring out the window. 

"Okay..." Denmark paused. When it became evident Iceland would not continue, he pressed on. "What do we do when we have someone?"

"I'll look through their minds. As long as I'm descreit, I'll be able to get enough information. If it's not them, I can just erase their memory."

"And it'll work this time?" Denmark clarified, turning to him. Iceland didn't move.

"It will. The only reason it didn't work on you was because I assumed you were a human, and so used my magic according to that assumption. I've never had a problem with erasing a human's memory."

Denmark looked ahead again, eyes absorbing the scenic landscape. It was Dutch as one could imagine, with fields of waving green grass, dotted with windmills and the occasional farm.

For the first time, it struck him how much this all was. He had only just met Iceland yesterday, the first one of their kind he'd met in his very long life, and just a day later they were chasing after another.

What if they don't find anyone? How would others react? When would this search end? How often would they be around each other? The two hadn't gone over these questions yet.

"That's because I don't know," Iceland replied. He paused. "We'll sort that out when we find one or two others, but for now there's not much to go on, so we'll just wing it."

Denmark stiffened, right as he made a left turn.

"I can tell when someone close is thinking hard about me. You can't fault me for being curious."

 _I could, in fact_ , Denmark thought with annoyance. _It's called a breach of privacy._

Iceland did not reply. Denmark didn't know if he had heard it, or had decided to retreat.

"I ask you to stay out of my mind unless absolutely necessary," Denmark sighed. " _Please_."

A beat of silence sliced the conversation.

"Alright," Iceland replied, tone even.

"Promise?" Denmark asked, not sure how much it would do.

Iceland hadn't moved from his position. He was still gazing at the Dutch countryside.

"Promise."

* * *

 

"By the way," Iceland said half an hour later, "AFkingJ just replied."

"Oh?" Denmark muttered. "What did he say?"

"' _I can. But who's asking?_ '" Iceland reiterated. "I already replied ' _S_ _omeone who is looking for more like you._ '"

"That's vague," Denmark frowned. Iceland shrugged, and went back to tapping on his phone.

Denmark glanced at the GPS. Sloten was ten minutes away.

"They've replied." Iceland announced after a minute. "' _Why are you looking?_ '"

"Now would be a great time to tell them we're also nations," Denmark said, staring into Iceland's eyes. Iceland remained expressionless, but he began tapping again, and turned to him after a few seconds.

"I've replied ' _Also a personification of a country_ ' and listed some characteristics that should help prove our authenticity."

Denmark nodded. It was a little hard to wrap his head around the idea-that they might have the United States of America on correspondence. 

"' _As you probably have guessed, I'm the United States of America. What nation do you represent?_ '" Iceland read. 

"You should put both our names," Denmark said. Iceland shook his head.

"I've been implying I'm the only one, so I'll just put mine down and you can reveal yourself if we manage to find him in real life."

"Do you really enjoy it that much, or is there an actual valid reason you leave out as much information as possible?" Denmark huffed, annoyed. But he didn't argue further.

"' _Republic of Iceland. Would like to arrange a meeting. If you're paranoid, you pick the meeting spot._ '" Iceland sent the message and closed his eyes.

"Do you think he'll agree to meet?" Iceland asked.

"Why not? There's not much to lose, is there?" Denmark said.

"I could be a crazy scientist waiting to capture and experiment on him," Iceland pointed out. Denmark rolled his eyes.

"Since when has that ever happened?" 

Iceland frowned, but didn't say anything. A moment later, he checked his phone again.

"' _Anywhere convenient for you, as long as it's a public place with a lot of people around. Internationally is okay, as long as travel isn't too difficult. I've been wanting a vacation anyway._ '"

"Some place in Amsterdam or Sloten, then," Denmark said. Iceland was quiet for a moment before he began his reply.

"' _Front of Amsterdam Airport Schiphol's main entrance. Tell me date, time, and general description._ '"

After a few more minutes, United States replied. 

"' _I'll be there at 7/20/19. 12:00 pm. Central European time. I'm physically 19. Blond hair-sort of straw color, blue eyes, bit taller than average. Squarish glasses._ '"

"' _That's fine. Physically 16, white hair, purple eyes. Will be hard to miss. I'll see you there."'_

Iceland put down his phone.

"That's that," he murmured. "And it looks like we're here."

Denmark nodded, eyeing the houses that were rapidly coming into view.

Hopefully, now they could secure another win.

* * *

Sloten was pretty. Picturesque. A quiet, peaceful town; a perfect snapshot of the Netherlands.

They immediately began their search with an almost manic fervor.

* * *

"There are two foreigners asking about you."

The man looked down at the young girl, who blinked her wide blue eyes back at him, a guilty expression on her face.

"Oh?"

"I-I think it might be my fault," she whispered. The man took another puff of his cigar, while also checking the time on a shiny watch with _1625 N. Amsterdam_ engraved around the clock face.

"Why is that?"

"I talked about you. Online."

At those words, the man jerked his head up and fixed his gaze at her. She didn't need any prompting.

"I-I just mentioned about how you...didn't seem to age," she whispered, eyes downcast. "And that I'm from Sloten."

"Where are they?"

The girl paused. 

"They're around the museum, last time I checked."

The man sighed. 

"Go back home and delete it." The young girl nodded shakily, and hurried off.

Netherlands closed his eyes. After a few minutes, he threw his cigar into the trash can he kept next to his porch. Sighing once again, he quickly ducked back into his house, opened a drawer of a desk nearby, and took out a sleek black pistol. Shoving it into his pocket, he then took out a knife sheath and strapped it to his belt before sliding in the knife as well.

Netherlands slowly calmed himself as he headed back outside and sat down on an aged mahogany chair. Things like this have happened before. But it was usually former soldiers who wished to find their comrades after the war-those, Netherlands often avoided, replying in some indirect way that he wished to be left in peace. The soldiers always understood and respected those wishes-especially since Netherlands played up his shady, loner side around humans.

It was the other kind who were much more problematic. People who had seen him die and revive, or realized he wasn't normal in some significant way. Netherlands has had to kill a few of those, but some got away, either because Netherlands didn't think they would have the means to make an impact, or because they managed to escape during the vulnerable period in which he was waking up.

With the part about "foreigners" and the young girl's online post...

No matter. He could dispatch them if it got to it. He was immortal, after all, and it was about time he left Sloten for another place. A much bigger city, where it was easier to blend in. He had been careless, staying so long-

"It's him."

Netherlands' head snapped up, towards the direction of the sound. Which happened to be from a teen standing a meter to his left, leaning against the rail that lined his porch.

That was strange. A bit shocking, even. Netherlands hadn't had someone manage to sneak up on him in a very long time. Alarm coursed through him.

His hand was just closing around his gun when a man darted up the steps and stood in front of him. His hands were empty and held in front of him in a placating gesture.

"You're on my property," Netherlands said, giving them the carefully crafted look he always gave to people who wanted to ask him unwelcome questions. The look that said "I have no idea why you are here and would like you to get the fuck out".

"Oh, I'm aware," the younger one said. His smiled deceptively, his eyes an eerie purple and almost glowing. The silvery white hair that framed his face only accentuated the strangeness of his appearance.

"Why don't you tell me something else I know? Like why you have hands completely free of any scars or blemishes, or a tantō knife made four hundred years ago in Japan."

Netherlands was about to feign confusion and annoyance when the much more normal looking one (or as normal as one could get with that hairstyle, though he was one to talk) interrupted.

"What he means is," he coughed. "We know you're the Netherlands. As in, you represent the people and culture of the country." He shot a look at his companion just as he finished his sentence. Netherlands tensed. He stood up, but didn't step away. Instead, he leaned forward and pulled out his pistol.

"Oh, don't be hasty. You don't want to do that," The younger one said breezily in a way which reminded Netherlands of a poker player who held all the good cards, and held them in a way that made sure everyone knew about it. "Here, let me help you." He snapped his fingers, and Netherlands' pistol was suddenly twirling around in the younger one's fingers.

The other person shot him an almost exasperated look.

"Look, we're asking-"

"You're asking; but we both know. It's just a formality at this point."

The blond one sighed, irritation seeping into his tone. Netherlands received the distinct impression the two hadn't had much experience working together.

" _I'm_ asking, because both me and my most _humble_ companion here also represent countries."

The words felt like a sudden, harsh slap to his face. Netherlands took a step back, for a moment struggling to process what had just been said.

Experiencing as much as he has, however, meant nothing could truly catch him off-guard for long. Netherlands quickly got his bearings together and narrowed his eyes.

"And what kind of proof do you have?" Netherlands hissed. He didn't bother reaching for his knife-it was probably in the other party's possession by now too.

"Here, let me do my ritual daily suicide to demonstrate." The white-haired one said mockingly, materializing Netherlands' knife (did it have to be proven so soon?) and gracefully sanking it into his abdomen. 

Netherlands stared at the blood that started to drip down from the blade. Before he could start the incision, his companion rushed forward and yanked the knife away.

"Iceland!" he hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Giving proof, of course. By the way, I wasn't done. This isn't enough for plausible death." He reached out for the knife, only to be blocked by Netherlands this time.

"That's enough," Netherlands said, and he was surprised his voice didn't tremble. "Please stop, I-"

He looked away, taking a deep breath and clearing away the memories that clawed at his mind. 

Then, he straightened up and fixed his gazed at them.

"If that blood stains anything, you're paying for a replacement," Netherlands pointed down at the carpet a few centimeters away from where the blood was pooling.

"Oh, that's perfectly fine, because it won't stain," he smiled. "The name's Iceland, as you should know."

"Denmark," The other one added. "Sorry for this...I didn't plan for that."

"Neither did I, but I saw the knife and couldn't help myself," Iceland's smile turned slightly less devious. Netherlands stared at those expressionless purple eyes and wondered what could have made him this way.

"Anyway, glad to know this wasn't a waste of time." Iceland snapped his fingers and the blood disappeared off both the floor and knife. Netherlands noticed his stab wound had already stopped bleeding, and made up his mind.

"Oh, take this back," Denmark tossed him the knife handle first, and Netherlands slid it back into its sheath.

"You two should get inside. I have some questions I want answered," he said. He opened the door and gestured for them to come in, suppressing the instinct that told him to kill the two and flee as fast as possible. 

 _This isn't the 1600s anymore_ , he reminded himself. _This is the 21st century. So many more things can happen._

"So you're just inviting us into your house?" Iceland asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"I do believe what we're about to discuss is not for human ears," Netherlands said. "You're lucky no one came by when you stabbed yourself."

From Iceland's expression, it was clear that had not been a concern of his.

Netherland sighed, and gestured for them to come in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iceland was about to commit seppuku before Denmark stopped him, yes. For those of you who don't know, it's a special form of Japanese suicide. Involves a special knife, which is called a tantō, being pushed into the belly and then a right to left cut being made. There's a lot more ritualistic stuff involved, and it changes with the place and time period of Japan, but Iceland just stuck with the basics here.
> 
> Also, Iceland here... Since Denmark takes to his weirdness so well, I wanted to make clear just how strange and sometimes crazy he seems to others. Denmark's the forgiving and understanding type, and he and Iceland should get along well. No bitter feelings about trying to wipe his memory or anything, so... Of course, they have stuff to work out, but overall it's pretty good.
> 
> There will be chapters more focused on how the nations' pasts affect them, and their relationships with other nations (and I do mean mostly platonic ones...mostly. The first arc is mostly focused on Denmark and Iceland, but the second arc is when the focus shifts to various other nations and some small bits of romance will be shown. Not much, mind you.
> 
> When I don't update when I plan to, you can usually blame some really good fanfiction for it. No promises this time, except that I will update eventually? IDK, not sure if setting a deadline helps or hinders.


	5. A Settled Conversation

Though Netherlands tried not to show it, raw, barely suppressed excitement was coursing through him. There were more nations. More people like _him_.

Logically, it made sense. But after so long the idea had lost its meaning.

As he brought out slices of cheesecake from the fridge, hope resettled itself inside him. No matter how much he liked his government and royal family, it just wasn't the same. It would be nice to have others to talk to occasionally, and have them understand. Though Denmark and Iceland were closer historically, he could still-

Netherlands briefly stopped his movements as a thought crossed him. _History_. Would it matter? Of course it would. History always affected the present. But how? How much?

Denmark and Iceland sat themselves around his living room table; Denmark cautiously, Iceland without hesitation. They appeared less confident than before, though the maniacal gleam in Iceland’s eyes was only just starting to die down.

He set the plates on the table in his living room, and then pulled two spare chairs from against the wall to join the procession. With a hand, Netherlands invited his guests to join.

"So," he began, eyeing Iceland viciously attack the cheesecake with his fork, "you've found me. Kingdom of the Netherlands, guilty as charged. Is there...anything you want?"

"Well, Denmark and I just met...technically two days ago," Iceland replied. "The details are irrelevant, but up until that point we didn't know any other personifications either. So we decided to try and find others, and yours was one of the best leads we got."

"And how did you find me?" Netherlands asked.

"Through a post online by a girl who lived here," Iceland swallowed before replying. Netherlands nodded. It was as he'd suspected, then. He would have to move very soon.

Iceland was apparently on the same train of thought.

"Why would you live here long enough to give something away? Thirty years? It's a wonder people haven't started asking questions earlier."

Netherlands sighed, internally going over his options. Iceland’s tone proclaimed a casual familiarity that hid a wave of curiosity for its own sake, but also unclear ulterior motives. 

Should he answer? What was the harm in it?

Then, the true reality of the situation suddenly dawned on him, bright and clear.

They were both nations. 

The centuries suddenly crashed down on him, and through the memories of deflection, lies, and concealment, he forced the reply from his mouth.

"I usually don't stay in a place longer than 5 years or so. Own a lot different houses I can move around in, make sure all the generations who knew me died out before I returned. But I got really tired of it recently..."

Netherlands rubbed his eyes. He still remembered the fear and panic that constantly hung in the air, more detectable to him than anyone else due to what he was. The lingering spark in everyone's minds that could flare into panic at any moment.

He'd gotten extremely good at regulating his own emotions from those of his people, but that was still too much, especially combined with his own paraniona, borne of no previous experience. It felt like his entire being was made of oil, and he was forced to live life constantly surrounded by flying candles that could randomly burst into flame at any moment. 

"The Cold War really messed it up," Netherlands said, relieved when the answer came easier this time. More smooth, more relaxed. "The fear, the panic in everyone's mind over nuclear war." From the nods Iceland and Denmark gave him, he felt an unexpected surge of relief, knowing they had experienced it too and understood his meaning. 

"I remember I was on edge constantly..." Denmark muttered. "Could barely sleep for more than an hour at a time."

"Hard to do anything when you might have a panic attack at any moment," Iceland huffed. "Most annoying thing ever, since it wasn't even my own thoughts." He paused. “Though that’s probably why I didn’t experience it to the extent you two did.”

Netherlands decided not to comment on that last part. They didn’t know each other well enough for that, no matter the similarities. Instead, he deflected.

"Couple that for overall suspicion of newcomers, especially in small towns, and all the government hoops to get through; tighter and much more than usual, I decided to take a chance and just pretend to be a rude recluse. Enough that no one bothered me," Netherlands explained. "Did as little interaction as I could, and got away with it for nearly forty years the first time. I've moved once since then, to Sloten."

"I presume the... _panic_ is not as strong as before?" Iceland asked.

"No. But it's still there, just much more subdued, right?" Netherlands watched his two guests nod. "It felt really nice, actually, not having to worry about where I would move next to generate the least amount of suspicion. Had a whole notebook keeping track of it. Small towns work best, since few people come and go, and all the news from here stays here. The internet changed that though. Suspect I'll have to go back to before."

"I mainly stay in big cities. Usually just spend a few months in rural areas when I wanted to check," Denmark said. "I found if I didn't visit the same places regularly, people didn't remember. They don't bother, being around that many people. As long as I didn't have prying neighbors, there wasn't much suspicion. Still moved around once in a while, just to see more."

"I hadn't thought like that," Netherlands admitted, playing around with a strawberry from his cheesecake. "I'm always so paranoid....guess I got tired of it too. Big cities are nice though...you can get everything you need in lots of different shops and markets. In small towns, before transportation got good enough, I always had to buy from the same few people, hence more chances for them to realize I wasn't aging. Lucky, I suppose, that when the Cold War was going on I could have my government drop off supplies with reliable enough consistency I didn't have to worry about that."

"Well, technological advancements. Making our lives both easier and more difficult by the moment," Denmark smiled. "I toast to better transportation methods very often. Online shopping is very convenient."

"Indeed," Netherlands smiled back. "The increase in tourism also helped in making my face more forgettable. Another reason who I choose Sloten."

"You could have reduced the risk with a bigger city though, since the benefit of reduced information was negated. Why didn't you?" Denmark asked curiously.

"Well..." Netherlands waved his hand at a window to their right. "It's a very pretty view. There's a reason people like coming here."

"You sacrificed better security so you would look at windmills?" Denmark said, fake incredulity in his voice.

"They're very nice windmills!" Netherlands said indignantly. "Excuse me for wanting to view the picture of...Dutchness."

"I'd argue Amsterdam or The Hague is the center of Dutchness, not...this." Denmark waved his arm at the windmill behind the window. "It's not even spinning!"

"That's because there's no wind, idiot," Netherlands snorted. "Do you know windmills work?"

"Of course I do! I'm just saying!" 

"You just don't have an eye for artistic interpretation."

"Do you know what that even means?"

"Of course. Sort of."

Denmark leaned back into his chair with a rolled of his, and then looked down at his now empty plate.

"This is very good cheesecake. Did you make it?"

"Yes," Netherlands finished off the last bite of his. "This is actually the 15th attempt. The first few were a disgrace, even following an online recipe, but I do have a lot of time to kill."

"Wait," Iceland suddenly said, narrowing his eyes. "What does your government know about you?"

Netherlands took a few seconds to recall his earlier words... _"'I could have my government drop off supplies with reliable enough consistency...'"_

"That I'm their nation? I usually don't get caught up in politics if I can help it, though I worked as a merchant for a long time so it was occasionally unavoidable. Why?"

Denmark and Iceland shared an unreadable look.

"Our governments don't know," Denmark replied. "Didn't think they'd believe me, and there was really just no reason to say anything."

"Information has a way of traveling where you don't want it too," Iceland said. "I found it safest to keep it all to myself."

Netherlands steeled himself. This wasn't a big deal. Stay focused.

"Hm. Well, mine has always made a point to not ask questions. Only a couple people know the full truth-but I've always dealt with any problems by threatening to kill them. Easy enough, since I'm immortal. Has always worked."

"Maybe," Iceland murmured. He had a vaguely troubled, thoughtful look on his face Netherlands couldn't figure out.

"Oh, by the way, I should have asked this sooner. Do you know any others like us?" Denmark asked, interrupting his thoughts. Netherlands took a moment to collect his thoughts, wishing he had been better prepared for this.

"I've met...a few people over the years I've suspected," Netherlands sighed. "But no one I've known with absolute certainty, and I have no way of finding the fate of any of those suspects."

_"I-I'm so very sorry. Please, you must leave immediately and not come back until memory of this incident has either died with time or faded into legend."_

_"But you-they're about to-"_

_"I will be fine. Trust me."_

_"I can't just leave you like this. Come with me, I can give you refuge."_

_"I can not. There are too many troubles in this land for me to abandon it now. You understand, don't you?"_

_"...I do. I'm sorry things ended this way."_

_"It is as much my fault. Do not lose yourself over it-and take this. Your ship is in the bay, and ready to travel back. If anyone tries to stop you...you have my permission to do whatever it takes to keep things secret."_

_"I'll see you again. One day, I promise."_

_"I hope so."_

"...that's too bad. Well, what about those suspects? Can you say more on them?"

Netherlands dug his nails into the back of his hand, the action out of sight under the table. He combed through his memory, trying to find someone who wasn't-

"Emma Willems," he choked out, and then made a show of coughing into his arm. Out of the corner of his eye, Netherlands saw Iceland narrow his eyes, and an uneasy feeling entered his chest.

"That name sounds vaguely familiar," Denmark muttered. "Felt like I've heard of her before."

"She was at a Treaty of London, wasn't she?" Iceland said. "The one in 1839 which set Belgium's borders and made the nation neutral towards international affairs."

"Yes. You can't find mention of her in any historical records-we're probably the only ones who remember she was there. For a reason-she purposely made sure of that. I talked to her right after the signing, about why she was there, and all she said was 'I need to be present in the flesh for this' before leaving."

"I know several others were present and confused by her presence, but were told not to make any mention of her," Iceland said. "However, Queen Victoria seemed to know something."

"How do you know this?" Denmark asked. "That treaty had nothing to do with you."

"I was in London at the time for other matters, and happened to come across someone who was at the signing. And as you know, I find new information irresistible, especially when it's about significant historical events," Iceland smiled. Netherlands felt he was missing something obvious here, and the uneasiness in his chest grew.

Denmark simply frowned and leaned against his chair, turning towards Netherlands.

"Describe her for me," he said.

"Slightly taller than average, for that time period at least, green eyes, and orangish brown hair." Netherlands reccounted. Iceland raised an eyebrow.

"That's it!" Denmark slammed his hands on the table excitedly, causing the glass plates to jiggle. "I met someone who looked like that during the WW2-we were doing resistance work, actually, and she was in Copenhagen for a while as a radio operator. I was the one bringing her supplies and information. She escaped to Sweden once the Nazis got a tip off about her location, and I haven't seen her since. The name she went by was Emma Willlems."

"You were part of a resistance too?" Netherlands asked. Denmark nodded.

"Of course. I couldn't just-you know?" Denmark sighed.

"I annoyed British soldiers during 1940, but that got old after a while, so I mostly wandered around Europe getting a sense of the damage for the rest of the war, and a while after," Iceland said. "Teleportation really came in handy during those times." He grimaced, as though remembering something extremely unpleasant.

"Teleportation?" Netherlands asked, curious. He recalled the way Iceland had stolen his knife, and cleaned up the blood on his porch with a single movement of his fingers.

"A power which you don't have," Iceland said, meeting his eyes for a chilling moment. Then he broke away and continued. "I can teleport to places I'm familiar with, and also make objects move around, like telekinesis."

"I think he's manipulating the world at the atomic level," Denmark mused. "Which is an incredibly broken power, though I'm pretty sure it costs his own energy to use, so at least there's a reasonable limit."

Iceland narrowed his eyes, and a sort of silent exchange seem to go on between the two nations before they both turned back to Netherlands, who felt like he'd just witnessed something extremely confidential and personal. It left him with chills down his spine and an oddly bad taste in his mouth, though he wasn't sure how that could happen.

"Don't worry about it," Iceland said abruptly. "Anyway, Emma Willems."

Netherlands knew an out to an awkward situation when he heard one.

"Well, I really don't have much besides that one meeting. I think she was also one of the stories of woman pretending to be men to fight wars during...sometime. I can't remember. But I read about it somewhere, in a letter that a former fellow soldier sent me."

"She has a Twitter account," Denmark suddenly said, flashing at them his phone. "Look."

 

_EmmaWillems_

_@Belgiumculture_

 

_A Belgian who's very proud of her history._

 

_Brussels_

_Joined October 2013_

 

The profile picture was of a woman who looked liked a somewhat older version of the 'Belgium' Netherlands had met nearly 2 centuries ago.

"That's her," Denmark said. "I've looked through her recent tweets-nothing seems to suggest she's one of us, besides the fixation on the country of Belgium, but she looks almost exactly like the Emma Willems I met. And she sounds like her too, from the tone and style of the tweets."

“I have some notes on her somewhere,” Iceland said. “And if she’s active online, then we can probably narrow her location quite a bit.”

“I’m helping,” Netherlands said immediately, an excited flutter in his chest. This was it. This was his chance-Denmark and Iceland were clearly close, and had no plans of staying around for long, but perhaps Belgium, if she hadn't found anyone else, would be more willing to talk with him about their history, or anything in particular.

For the first time in a long while, a wave of fresh anticipation blew over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey. This chapter's entirely in Netherlands' p.o.v. That's new.
> 
> Oh boy was this a pain to write. And it's only about 2.5k words. I'm actually thinking about making chapters shorter, but posting them sooner.
> 
> Oh yeah, and they're all speaking Dutch here. Like, there was no need to point this out in the story, but just so you know. Belgium's account is in Dutch too. If I butcher anything social media related, let me know, since I'm not really familiar with how they work. The only platform I frequent is Youtube (unless this counts?).
> 
> Netherlands probably seems a bit OOC here, I think. Here's the breakdown: I tried to make all his external dialogue and body language fit closer to with what we've seen of him so far (but not too close, and I hope I did a good job of showing why in the chapter), but since he's such a minor character I'm taking some liberties with how he thinks internally. When we see him from other character's p.o.v., hopefully he won't seem too OOC then.
> 
> Denmark just suddenly deduces the way Iceland's "magic" works. More clarification on that later, but what I have in mind is an explanation similar to how quirks are explained in My Hero Academia (another reason why this is so late, but don't worry I still haven't abandoned this yet). Anyway, I want Denmark to suddenly bust out a surprising amout of knowledge on chemisty at some point, as a reference to Neils Bohr.
> 
> I have a list of what will happen in the next threeish chapters planned out (most of which was done during band camp, which has now taken the top spot for most boring and arduous school related activity I've ever had the displeasure of participating in).
> 
> Oh yeah, and school's started now. Considering my upload schedule over the summer, I don't really think it'll make that much difference.


	6. Intermission

"So what do we start with?" Denmark asked experimentally. "Staring at her Twitter page can only help so much."

Netherlands only sighed, gesturing at the document they had set up on his laptop, first page still mostly bare. The two were indoors dodging the glaring heat of the sun with air conditioning, still around the same table at which they first got to know each other. 

Iceland had taken a flight back to Reykjavik the day after they had met Netherlands, claiming he had something to take care of and that he would join them again in a week. Denmark suspected there was still much left unsaid, but opted to pick his battles and let Iceland leave without further words.

Meanwhile, he and Netherlands had spent the past few days in Sloten, splitting their time between quietly admiring the scenery and scouring the World Wide Web for more possible clues that could allude to other personifications.

"There's an ask blog about the Kingdom of Prussia," Netherlands hummed. "It's interesting. And very accurately detailed." Like a lot of other things they'd found. Even after several decades of its existence, Denmark found he could still be amazed by the sheer absurdity of some of their findings.

"We should submit some questions about the embodiment of Prussia," Denmark joked. They shouldn't, of course. That could be a potentially disastrous idea.

"Honestly? What's the harm?" Netherlands said. Denmark twisted his head to stare at him incredulously.

"Besides the obvious fact that they'll ask questions and our cover could be blown if it turns into an internet wide mystery?"

"It won't," Netherlands said dryly. "There's a higher likelihood of Brexit actually happening by the 31st of October."

"You underestimate the craftiness and determination of the internet," Denmark said resolutely. "Someone will ask too many questions."

"Maybe we can frame it in a different way," Netherlands said. "Just ask for any mention of historical figures with 'tales of improbable survival' or something. Prussia's long dead, anyway-"

He broke off, face twisting into one of serious contemplation. Denmark also grew still. 

The idea of death was, ironically enough, foreign, even as they understood better than any human how inevitable a nation's fall was. But Denmark realized that, after what could be counted as cheating death so many times, the idea of real death had long since escaped his mind. 

But what would happen to him if - when - the nation of Denmark were to go the way of Rome, of Holy Roman Empire, of of the Greek city-states?

 _Here,_ Denmark mused, _lies the Prussia conundrum_. Were they still around, or as dead as their rulers, or somewhere inbetween, fed by memories but not allegiance?

"We don't know," Denmark said aloud, "We don't know what keeps...our kind alive."

Netherlands exhaled, slowly. "But then, there have been so many countries. If it's memory that keeps us alive then surely we would have met others long before now?"

"We don't know that either," Denmark replied quietly. "All three of us tried our best to hide, so if the rest did then the chances are still quite high. The problem is that we simply _don't know_."

It was now settling in, just how much they had left to uncover about their own biology and function. 

Denmark glanced back to the spark of their little discussion.

"I suppose we could do it like that-I guess my paranoia's a bit unreasonable."

"You should have had quite a few close calls, living the way you do," Netherlands commented. Denmark instantly recalled several memories and twisted his hands.

"Well, I did. Probably a lot more than you or Iceland. I'm just good at talking my way out of those situations."

Netherlands nodded, looking thoughtful. 

"Well, let's just ask what I suggested."

_"Do you know of any people with 'tales of improbable survival' or anything like that?"_

"Should I add a reason why? Like we hears a story somewhere and wanted to know more?" Netherlands mused. "It _would_ seem rather suspicious with just that, wouldn't it? You do have a point, and there's no need to make this riskier than it needs to be."

"It makes it sound like you have something to hide if you do that," Denmark said, shaking his head. "If you submit the question like that it'll just be chalked up to standard internet randomness. This question isn't even as specific as some of the other questions."

Netherlands nodded and clicked submit. Well, that was that.

Denmark pulled the tab with Probably-Belgium's Twitter back up.

"The information is still all somewhat specific but just vague enough to be frustrating," he sighed. _"I'll be visiting a brother of mine soon in Luxembourg, so excited!"_

"Though you'd think since Luxembourg is so close anyways, there's not much to be excited about," Netherlands snorted. "Depending on where you are in Belgium it takes anywhere from a leisurely five second stroll to at most a few hours of driving."

"Who would this brother in Luxembourg be anyways?" Denmark mused. Then, suddenly comprehending what he said, paused his reading and looked up at Netherlands, a look of realization dawning his eyes. From the look in his eyes, Netherlands had come to the same idea as well.

"If this brother in Luxembourg _is_ Luxemburg..." Netherlands began.

"That's assuming Emma Willems is Belgium too," Denmark said. "But it would make sense."

"If it is...then I wonder how long they've known each other," Netherlands mused, a slightly wistful look crossing his face.

"Hopefully, we'll eventually have enough information to find out," Denmark said, leaning back to stretch. "Maybe we should go to Luxembourg too."

"And hope to encounter her through pure chance?" 

"At the very least we get a nice chance of scenery. I haven't been there in a while."

"There's nothing wrong with Sloten," Netherlands grumbled quietly. But he nodded his head after a few seconds and, looking oddly relieved, replied, "l suppose there's nothing to lose."

"Iceland should be back in a day or two-"

Denmark narrowed his eyes and studied Netherlands' face. Throughout so many centuries, he had become incredibly perceptive of body language and tone. The best way to avoid suspicion is to understand what causes it, and failing that, how to placate it. And what Denmark had realized, after his conversations with both Netherlands and Iceland about their living styles, was that he had interacted with humans far more than the both of them.

But the problem here was Netherlands. The sudden lack of eye contact, sped up finger tapping, and slightly lower tone consistency which Denmark wouldn't have noticed had he not spent countless hours on the cello-

The picture was nowhere near complete, but Denmark thought he could hazard a reasonable guess.

"-actually, I think Iceland was planning something else. Why don't you go find her yourself? When was the last time you left this little town anyway?"

"Sloten is a city," Netherlands said immediately. Then he paused. "You could tell, huh?"

"We're not as close as you think," Denmark huffed. "But with this history between your country and Belgium's, it's a good idea for you two to talk things out alone if-when-you meet."

"For people who have known each other for a week, you two certainly are close," Netherlands interjected. "Even I can tell that."

Denmark pursed his lips, something akin to dread seeping into his chest. "We'll see." This was all so new to him too, and with how hard Iceland was to decipher, he had no idea just how this whole thing would turn out.

But he knew he had to try. To make an effort to build relations, to find others. He had shied away from it all for too long.

"Well, I suppose," Netherlands said dubiously, but he didn't pursue it further. "Anyway, I think I'll do that. Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Denmark said, studying Netherlands. He certainly seems a bit more cheered by the prospect, so Denmark considered it a success.

Now to tell Iceland that.

* * *

Iceland glanced over the pile of worn notebooks, browned papers, and frayed, marked-up maps with an internal sigh of annoyance, eyeing the way they nearly hid all the dull flooring beneath. He once knew exactly where everything was, of course, but after decades of barely look at the mess in front of him, except to occasionally dust things off, that knowledge had long been lost.

He carefully tread through the sea of notes, careful not to crunch any of the fragile papers beneath his bare feet.

The room was dimly lit by a yellow light, resonating from a lightbulb which Iceland had found in another storage room and gingerly screwed on. He was fairly sure it had been bought from a shop in the Soviet Union.

After reaching a corner which contained most of his 19th century notes, Iceland spent a while digging around, carefully examining each journal, making note of anything which could be useful, and beginning what he hoped would be a somewhat more efficient system for future reference.

Finally, he found what he had been looking for specifically. With a black (more grey now) cover, overlaying a bulky collection of pages strung and held together by a seasoned oak spiral. The front cover was labeled, in pale golden ink, _Southern and Middle Great Britain 1835-1839,_ _London 1839, Scotland 1839-1842, Island of Ireland 1842-1844, other British Isles 1844-1845_.

Flipping to the part sectioned with a ribbon titled  _London 1839_ , Iceland's eyes scanned the page until he found what he was looking for.

 

 _Belgium_ _-_

_Emma Wathet. Part of Treaty of London 1839 regarding Belgium's independence and neutrality. Queen Victoria had semblance of her reason for presence. Not true of most others. Appearing late teen - early twenties. unable to find in person._

 

Iceland never gave much attention to this particular lead. Emma Wathet seemed to have disappeared from the British Isles as soon as that treaty was concluded, and Iceland knew what was worth pursuing and what was an exercise in futility.

His phone buzzed from the table which he left it on, breaking the brittle silence. Iceland turned a contemplative eye at the screen when he saw the notification.

Well, might as well.

He placed the notebook down and went over to answer.

* * *

The United States of America was beyond excited.

New people! New NATIONS!

Well, not _new_ , per se, but new to him. He took another bite of his quickly diminishing hamburger (homemade, _not_ from McDonald's) and reread his email exchange with "Iceland".

There was always the chance of a scam, of course, but the (quite frankly ridiculous) levels of paranoia exuding from their side of the conversation sold him.

However, the arranged date was still almost a month away, and America (as he'd mentally dubbed himself, since there was no one else to challenge his claim to that name) was much too impatient to wait that long. 

So of course, the solution was to get Iceland to open up more. Reveal more about themselves and what they knew.

_Hey so do you know anyone else or are you like me?_

The email was swiftly sent off.

America nodded to himself, finished his burger, and went back to playing Pokemon.

* * *

_Denmark. And the Netherlands, though we just called him Netherlands._

America peered at the reply, which had come in thirty minutes later. Well, it was a start. He began typing.

_Kinda jealous bc it's more than I know. Which is zero. Besides you._

Hopefully that would prompt them to spill more. Wouldn't do to not know anything, though what he would do with that information, America still didn't know. 

_You're coming soon anyways._

Not much luck, huh?

America grinned. He loved a good challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Remember when I said the school year's not going to affect my upload schedule?
> 
> I LIED.
> 
> Honestly, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
> 
> Speech and Debate, four instruments, marching band, ect. on top of all my classes. But anyway, there's still no excuse for how long this took. It's just pure procrastination. I'll TRY to get the next chapter done earlier (helps I've written part of it already, I've just been too lazy to edit this one), so if by all odds you're still reading this bear with me.
> 
> I know this is a much shorter chapter too, but the next part doesn't really fit with the rest of this, so I decided to just chop it off here.
> 
> Keep in mind this is still like late June 2019, so the Brexit by Oct. 31 date was still up in the air. But honestly, what were we expecting?
> 
> I know when Netherlands said it would take at most a few hours of driving across Belgium it's still a long time to most Europeans. Apparently. But I'm chalking it up to "they're nations who have traveled a lot."
> 
> And America comes back! Because really, did you expect him to stay out of this before the meeting date? It's the 21st century.
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: Emma Wathet/Emma Willems. I was tossing these two names around before deciding on Willems, but apparently my brain was like NOPE when I wrote this. Fixed it now.


End file.
